


Invert, Reverse

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Arthur, Canon Era, First Time, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur decides that he needs to take Merlin's innocence before Merlin gives it to someone else, and learns things about himself in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invert, Reverse

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: There are mentions of past violence as the result of homophobia. There's internalised homophobia. There's also mentions of faeces/defecation in relation to anal sex (not scat, but in relation to cleanliness/needing to plan when to have anal sex), and notions of being filthy that sort of tie in with the internalised homophobia, rather than any bodily filth.

It could, perhaps, be said to have started a spring day when they first meet and Merlin insults Arthur and Arthur has him put in the stocks and can't stop thinking of him. But it also starts by a campfire, under the stars, several years later, when Arthur is already king. 

They're on their way to rid a village of a band of outlaws. As usual, the knights' talk turns bawdy. Only this night, it's even more shameless than usual.

"Don't get me wrong," Gwaine says, his voice loud to be heard over the boisterous laughter that followed Leon's story about the red-headed twins. "I like sticking my cock up a cunt as well as any man, but there's something special about buggery, isn't there?"

The men laugh, and nod knowingly. Their eyes glitter in the firelight, and their faces are eager with the hunger that comes with the uncertainty before a fight.

"Tight," Elyan says with a lustful groan, pressing his hand to the bulge in his trousers. "Hotter than _hell_."

"The tiny blonde at The Rising Sun - Elaine, her name is - she prefers it to men sticking their prick in her front door," Percival informs them, and this almost drives the others to distraction.

The talk continues in the same vein as the fire burns away and they have to add new logs. The bed of embers is getting deep, and they should turn in, if they're to get some sleep. Arthur and Merlin are the only ones not contributing to the discussion. Arthur can get away with it, but Merlin can't.

"You've never buggered a woman, Merlin?" Gwaine asks. 

There's a sly glint in his eyes that Arthur isn't too comfortable with. He shifts, seats himself closer to his servant. To his _friend_.

Merlin's ears flush red. "I've never done anything," he confesses, sending the others into fits of laughter that rise towards the night sky like a shower of sparks. Until Arthur tells them all to be quiet and get some sleep, they all give him enthusiastic advice on where to find a suitable girl for his first time, and how to behave with her.

Arthur decides then and there that he will be the one to have Merlin's precious innocence. Other men might lie to themselves, pretend that they'll do it as a favour. But Arthur is not in the habit of lying - to himself, or to others - and he knows very well that he'll take Merlin to his bed for purely selfish reasons, because he needs him, craves him. Always has.

He's wanted Merlin since he first laid eyes upon him, but has always fought down the less than chivalrous urge. Now, when it seems as if Merlin might go and spend his wages on a whore, Arthur knows that he'll have to act swiftly.

He's still to decide on the best course of action when Merlin unwittingly helps him. They're home again, in Arthur's chambers.

"Arthur," he says, and there's a raw, delicate note to his voice, one that Arthur only ever hears when they're alone. "Arthur, what's buggering?"

Arthur is in bed already, stealing furtive glances at Merlin's naked body as Merlin dries himself. It's customary for a servant to take advantage of his master's bathwater for his own ablutions.

Arthur stops pretending to be asleep. He sits up, letting the thin sheet slip down to his lap. He's naked underneath. "You truly don't know?"

Merlin blushes. "No. That's why I'm asking. If you're going to tease me for it–"

"No, no," Arthur interrupts before Merlin can finish his sentence, worried that he'll get dressed and leave. "I wasn't going to tease. Come here."

Still naked, Merlin sits down on the bed, opposite Arthur. It's summer at last, and not even Merlin suffers from cold. Outside Arthur's window, half obscured by the hastily drawn curtains, the night sky is deep blue. The breeze is warm, the air is balmy.

"When you bugger someone," Arthur says, feeling a warm prickle to his skin that is both embarrassment and budding excitement, "you put your cock in their arsehole. You couple like that, just as you would if you'd put it in a woman's cunt."

Merlin makes a face as if he's bitten into a bad apple. Arthur can't tell if it's the idea of the act itself, or the fact that Arthur - unlike his men - usually minds his language, so that the crude words sound even cruder. But Merlin pulls his knees up, folding himself and hiding his cock from Arthur, a promising sign.

"Doesn't it _hurt_?" Merlin asks. His eyes are large and as blue as the night. "I'm not going to mistreat a woman just because the knights tell me to."

And this is Arthur's cue. He looks Merlin in the eye, keeps his gaze just a moment too long. "It can hurt if you're careless, or a bad lover," he admits, "but it doesn't have to."

Merlin doesn't seem convinced.

"It's dry," Arthur says. "An arse doesn't get wet like a cunt does. So you have to make it wet. And you have to open it carefully, make it relax." He's starting to feel self-conscious, which is ridiculous. It's just that he's never talked about these things before, only done them. 

He tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. "It can be very intimate," he says because it can be, even though it rarely is, in his experience. His voice sounds more like a feeble croak than the commanding voice of a warrior king. "To let someone in like that can be a sign of trust."

Merlin licks his lips, the pink tip of his tongue darting over the deeper red of his mouth. He's all angles. He's all bones and sinews and no flesh, as if he's still growing into himself, even now, when he's past twenty. But his lips look soft.

"Is there pleasure in it?" he asks. "It sounds so–" his voice breaks. "So unkind. Like something you'd do to someone just because you can, just to brag about it."

"I've always liked it," Arthur says, the words tumbling out of his mouth, dragging him with them down a precipice. 

Merlin's eyes widen. "You do that to women?"

And in for a penny, in for a pound. Arthur has been sitting propped up against the headboard, but now he gets on his knees, and the sheet falls away. He leans forward, into Merlin's personal space. He looks at Merlin, and when Merlin doesn't protest, doesn't push him away, Arthur cups his face and presses a dry, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"No," he admits, laying himself bare, revealing the secret that not even his knights know about. "I let men do it to me." 

His hand lingers on Merlin's cheek before he lets go, and sinks back on his heels. His underarms and the cleft of his arse are going damp with sweat. His skin feels as if he's lain under the sun for too long. He waits.

Merlin's lips part. He doesn't speak. Finally, when the silence threatens to undo them, he says, "I think I've always known." He shakes his head, smiles his silly smile. "About you liking men, I mean."

Arthur studies him carefully, searches Merlin for signs of anger or disgust. "And does it bother you?"

Merlin is still smiling as he shakes his head. Arthur should have known.

"What about you," Arthur asks, emboldened. "Do you like men?"

This time, Merlin shrugs. "I like you," he says.

Arthur frowns. "What does that mean?"

"That I'm not ogling your knights, and not your page boys, either." There are bright red spots on his cheeks, just as when he's been drinking. "Other men do nothing for me, but _you_ –" He lets his legs fall open, as if words are not enough. His cock is stiff and wet at the tip.

It's beautiful. Delicate skin, dark veins, not too long, and not too thick. He wanted Merlin before, for being Merlin. Now he wants him for his cock, too. 

"Fuck," he whispers.

Merlin smiles that cheeky smile of his. "Yeah, all right. If you really want to."

And Arthur laughs, he just can't help himself. Soon, Merlin joins him. When they stop, much of the tension is gone, there's only enough left to make things interesting.

"I want to," Arthur says. "If you want to with me."

Merlin's smile turns into a frown. He bites his lip, chews on it as if he's worried. "Only if it doesn't hurt."

"It won't," Arthur promises.

From there on, it's all so easy. As if they both been waiting for it, as if their lives have been leading up to this. To the moment when Arthur settles against the pillows again, with Merlin's bony body on top. While the rest of Merlin might be clumsy, his fingers are gentle. That hasn't changed.

Merlin is so thin. He's so easy to hold, to enclose in one's arms. "I'm going to make you mine," Arthur tells him between kisses.

Merlin, already busy with Arthur's neck, with his shoulders and collarbones, looks up. His ears burn red, glowing like hot coals. Arthur touches one of them in passing as he cards his fingers through Merlin's dark hair. It's coarser than it looks, and so thick you just want to keep touching it.

They kiss again, Merlin's mouth still wide open and surprised as it meets Arthur's smile. Arthur kisses him until he relaxes. Until he's soft and pliant and his cheeks are deeply dimpled. When Merlin's like that, it's not too hard to flip him, get him on his back.

And Merlin lies there, a lazy, dreamy look on his face, as Arthur finds the pot of ointment tucked away in the drawer in his nightstand.

"I thought that was for your hands," Merlin says, scandalised.

"Sometimes," Arthur admits, as he opens it and scoops out a bit. "Most of the time, I use it for other purposes." 

Merlin is not too addled with lust to frown in thought. But Arthur is too self-conscious to show Merlin the alternative uses of some of the other things he keeps in his room: a thick silver candle stick, a ceremonial dagger with a hefty hilt, a polished stone egg with a gold chain attached to one end. Another time, perhaps. Arthur might need a bit of liquid courage for that, because the mere idea of showing... Of having Merlin _know_... It makes him nervous almost to the point of making him feel sick.

He crouches, reaches behind himself, sighs out a breath as he lets his fingers find where they need to go. He looks at Merlin as he works, greedy at the sight of the unabashed hunger in Merlin's eyes, the way Merlin unconsciously reaches down and grabs his cock. Two fingers do the trick, making him slick and loose enough. Merlin will do the rest. 

Arthur surreptitiously checks his fingernails as he removes his fingers. They're clean, meaning he can go through with this. He's grateful for the fact that he went to the privy almost as soon as he'd handed his horse over to the grooms. If they're going to do this again, he'll have to sit Merlin down and explain to him how this sort of sex can never be altogether spontaneous, that it's dependent on the timing of other bodily functions in ways that other sex isn't. He feels embarrassed just thinking of the conversation, and forces his mind to return to the here and now.

He scoops up another dollop of ointment with his clean hand, and grabs Merlin's hardness, gets him ready.

"How do we–“ The words rush out of Merlin's mouth, his wide-eyed gaze fixed on Arthur's hands greasing him up.

"Any way you want," Arthur says, feeling generous. 

He wipes his hand on the towel, then throws it on the floor. Not too far away. They'll need it again. 

Merlin's bewildered expression is humbling. Gods, he really is a virgin.

"You can do it - do me - from behind," Arthur explains. "Or I can lie on my back. Or you can lie on your back, and I'll straddle you." There are probably other positions, but he's never tried them.

Merlin looks shocked. "We're not animals," he says. "I won't mount you like one. I'm not... No, I can't do that to you."

Arthur smiles. He'll teach Merlin about being animals, but not now. "On my back, then," he says, and lies down.

It's been ages since he did it like this. The dingy tavern in the bad part of the lower town, the one that he only goes to when Merlin is away with Gaius, doesn't really cater for romance. Besides, he runs less of a risk of being recognised if his partner only sees his arse through the hole in the wall.

In the past, just after his father died, he's had other young noblemen of similar tastes here, in his chambers. But that was all about hands and mouths, and occasionally his cock between someone's greased thighs. It never satisfied him like having something inside does.

He hasn't been fucked face to face since he did it with the groom who introduced him to these pleasures, back when he was fifteen. Uther found out and had the groom executed for witchcraft, because how else do you explain a prince of the realm wanting something as filthy and inverted as another man's cock up his arse? 

_A commoner's cock_. Arthur can still hear Uther's angry, trembling voice. He touches the bump on his nose like he always does when he remembers. He didn't allow Gaius to set it for him once Uther had tired himself out. He'd wanted to be rugged, not a pretty boy with a face that made other men think unchaste thoughts. It still serves as a reminder to himself to be careful, not to let others know his secret, not to be found out.

Merlin kisses the bump on Arthur's nose as he lies down on top of him. He doesn't know the history behind it, and there's no need for him to ever know. He is innocent, unspoiled, and Arthur wants to keep him that way. Only not bodily innocent, obviously.

"You're so beautiful," Merlin whispers, and Arthur almost laughs it away, but when he sees how sincere Merlin is, he just can't.

"You too," he replies, equally sincere, and offers his mouth to be kissed.

They keep kissing as Arthur lifts his hips, wraps his legs around Merlin's waist. He keeps touching Merlin's face with one hand, but reaches down with the other, guides Merlin.

"That's where it needs to go," he says, because if they keep kissing, they'll both come before they can consummate this.

Merlin nods feverishly, looking sixteen rather than twenty something. He's breathing through his mouth, going frantic as his cock bobs against Arthur's pucker, trying to find the centre, the place where Arthur's body will open for him. 

When, at last, it does, he pushes, then stops, bewildered by the tightness. "It won't fit."

Arthur is sweating now, tightening up with pleasure and anticipation. He takes a deep breath and bears down.

"It does," he says, and it feels weird to be talking and fucking at the same time. "Just push, you won't hurt me."

He still lets out a strangled _nnghh_ when Merlin does as he's told, when he breaches the tightest part. Merlin's cock is warm, but it feels cold against the heat of Arthur's insides. It feels weird, just as it always does. Merlin stops when he's all the way inside. He's panting, red-faced. His pleasure is acute.

Arthur relaxes around him, soothes himself as he soothes Merlin, running his hands along the trembling sides to feel the ridges of Merlin's ribs. "Shh," he whispers. "It's all right. Just stay still for a moment."

And Merlin does, trembling, as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his boyish shoulders. When at last Arthur lets him, he starts to move. Pulling back and shoving in again, deep. It's as if the skin of his hole clings to Merlin's length, and it burns. Arthur gasps.

Merlin is beyond noticing. His eyes are glassy, and all his consciousness is in the seven or so inches of his body currently lodged deep in Arthur's gut. A drop of sweat falls from his forehead onto Arthur's, and then he's moving. 

He thrusts hard, and he's still learning, still just instinct-driven. There's no rhythm, no finesse, just a brutal, self-serving pace. It's wonderful. Arthur could spend a lifetime staring up at him, watching Merlin finally unravel, becoming nothing more than an animal in his hunt for pleasure. But Merlin's climax is drawing near, and Arthur holds him closer, tightens around his desperate cock. It feels really good.

"That's it," he says, cupping Merlin's head and bringing it closer so that their foreheads are pressing together. "That's it. Give it to me."

Merlin's mouth fall open, and his needy _uh-uh_ sounds, punctuating the slaps as their bodies meet, are like music to Arthur's ears. Oh, Gods, Merlin is falling apart. He's going to break against Arthur like waves against rocks.

"When I'm done with you, you'll be ruined for any others," Arthur groans as Merlin speeds up and his thrusts become sharp and short and violent. He pulls Merlin close, holds him tight, clinging to him. "You'll be _mine_."

Merlin spends with a pained expression, bracing his arms on either side of Arthur's head as he spills his hot seed. He's beautiful when he climaxes: pale cheeks pinked, mouth open, eyes so dark they look black. 

He collapses into Arthur's arms afterwards. He lets himself be held, and Arthur is only too happy to hold him. Arthur is a warrior. He's not allowed gentleness, affection, and so he treasures this moment like he would something stolen. His own cock is hard and unspent between them, but he doesn't want to touch it. The weight and ache of it only makes things better. It gives a keen edge to that which would otherwise be too soft, too cuddly. 

It ends when Merlin slips out, when he gets up and leaves Arthur's cooling body to fetch a wash cloth and dip it in the tepid bathwater.

"I can do that on my own," Arthur protests, when Merlin crouches between his legs and nudges at him to get access. "It's filthy." He always feels filthy afterwards, as if putting something up his arse shouldn't be something to enjoy.

Merlin only laughs at him, though not unkindly. "I'm the one to carry your dirty clothes to the laundresses. I'm the one who cleans your wounds and empties your chamberpot," he says, gently stroking Arthur's thighs. "Do you honestly think that there's anything about your body that disgusts me? Do you really think that I believe that your arse is made of roses and unicorn bellybutton lint? Besides, I've just had my cock there. I made you filthy with my seed. Why should it disgust me?"

Blushing, Arthur tips his hips back, and lets him. He's never been touched like this. Being with other men is never intimate, or tender. It's always hurried, with everyone involved probably feeling as ashamed about it as Arthur does, deep down. 

There is no shame now. Embarrassment, yes, but not shame. He's growing hard.

"You're swollen," Merlin says, as Arthur holds his thighs up against his body, exposing the little hole that Merlin hasn't seen until now. "I hurt you."

Arthur can see his frown without having to look. He knows it only too well.

"No," he replies, eyes still closed. "You didn't. You saved me." 

It feels that way, and he doesn't even know why. Maybe it's just that this feels a lot like all the times he's escaped death only to wake up to Merlin cleaning his wounds and patching him up. 

"You saved me," he repeats, as he opens his eyes and finds Merlin staring back at him, incredulous.

It's only then that Merlin notices Arthur's erection. He smiles.

"And I'll save you again," he says softly, even though he can't possibly understand what's going on in Arthur's head. He puts away the cloth, and takes Arthur in his hand.

He's so gentle, nothing like when Arthur abuses himself. It's ridiculous, if he was the one touching his cock like that, the treacherous thing would simply refuse to cooperate. But even after such a short acquaintance, it's already under Merlin's spell, and soon it's leaking profusely, happy to be petted.

"I'll always take care of you," Merlin says smiling, slowly running his fingertips along the vein on the underside of Arthur's cock. "I'll always be here for you. You're so precious to me."

It shouldn't be possible to feel like one is on the verge of tears and on the verge of a climax at the same time, but it is. Arthur learns that it is.

And yet he's unable to come, even when Merlin encloses him in his fist and starts moving, because his body is just too used to the way things usually are. By the time Arthur feels as if he's going mad, he simply grabs Merlin's free hand, and wordlessly shows him where to put his fingers, how to curl them just right. At last, he spends, spurting white ribbons of seed all the way up his chest.

He feels like he's been given a new lease of life. When Merlin puts out the candles and lies down next to him in the darkness, Arthur feels as if everything is finally starting to fall into place. He touches the uneven line of the bridge of his nose. It'll never be like it was before it was broken, but it's healed now. It's about time that the rest of him was too.


End file.
